


RK900 and the Infinite Lovesickness

by stupiddragon



Series: I'd Scream "I Love You," But Somebody Would Hear Me [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, POV Upgraded Connor | RK900, Pining, Secret Crush, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, guitar playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupiddragon/pseuds/stupiddragon
Summary: Nines did not need to go out if his way- quite far out if his way, in fact- to drop off his partner's forgotten effects at his apartment. He didn't need to, but he wanted to.He's rewarded with a bit of a lesson from his favorite detective.





	RK900 and the Infinite Lovesickness

**Author's Note:**

> Part if a little series of lovesick Nines fluff I've been writing on and off. Hope you enjoy!

**_[RK900 313 248 317-87 10/15/2039 6:45PM]_ **  
_You left your wallet._

 **_[Gavin Reed 10/15/2039 6:47PM]_ **  
_oh fuck lmao, just leave it at the front with person_  
_i'll come back for it_

 **_[RK900 313 248 317-87 10/15/2039 6:47PM]_ **  
_I could drop it off on my way home. You shouldn't drive around without your license, after all._

 **_[Gavin Reed 10/15/2039 6:48PM]_ **  
_lol fuck off not like i’ll get pulled over_  
_don't you live in like the opposite direction tho?_

 **_[RK900 313 248 317-87 10/15/2039 6:48PM]_ **  
_I'll be near you for some errands. It won't be a problem._

 **_[Gavin Reed 10/15/2039 6:50PM]_ **  
_cool just text me when you're on your way_

_________

RK900 did not actually have any errands to run barring this one trip to Detective Reed's apartment. He didn't need food or toiletries, didn't have pets to take care of, didn't have any supplies or gifts to pick up. He only wanted to go out if his way for Gavin, and one of his daydre— no, _preconstructions_ had him doing exactly something like this and being invited into the man's home. Maybe just to chat, maybe for some show of gratitude or… or even a confession.

No matter if he was invited in or not, if Nines had an opportunity to take the inconveniences out of Gavin's life, or an excuse to see him again, he would take it.

To prevent himself from raising suspicion, the android took his time getting there. Instead of getting on the Mover to go across the city, he walked. He didn't mind- his legs wouldn't tire and the temperature wouldn't bother him. Sleep (or stasis) was optional as long as his software updates and maintenance weren't urgent, so it didn’t bother him when the sun was well below the horizon and the street lights were buzzing above him.

When he was two blocks away, Nines sent a message of warning.

 **_[RK900 313 248 317-87 10/15/2039 7:54PM]_ **  
_I'm about 10 minutes away._

The android paused for a moment to wait for a response. A minute or two passed, and no text came. There could be any reason for that, he thought, so he set off, unperturbed, down the street towards the Detective's building.

It was attractive, recently built—ten years old, according to city records—and surrounded by shops. This was a nice place to live in; right by a Mover station, with convenience stores, bars, and sandwich shops on every corner. It was easy to see why he put up with the premium of living in the city instead of getting a small house of his own just outside it; this was far more efficient.

Gavin lived on the third floor. Not too far to climb the stairs, but he'd heard Officer Chen praise the Lord for the elevator more than once when recounting drunken nights shambling back to the apartment with the Detective hanging off her shoulder. RK900 wouldn't tire, so he made his way up three flights of stairs and pushed open the fire door on the landing labeled with a large numeral three.

What he first noticed wasn't the quiet, carpeted hallway ahead of him, but a sound. Nines turned his head towards it; it was coming from the direction of Gavin's apartment. The soft, tinny chords of an unplugged electric guitar drew Nines closer, right outside the door he was looking for.

He stood there for a moment, entranced by the strumming—Gavin's playing, which Nines admitted was rather skilled. And then the voice came in, muffled at first, as if the man was trying not to be heard, then just loud enough to make out. Entranced, RK900 didn't want to interrupt, so he stood in the hall with Gavin's wallet held to his chest and one hand halfway curled into a fist, not quite ready to knock.

_“...on a live wire, right above the street, you and I should meet…”_

The lyrics were sweet and low and just a little gruff, and Nines only wished he could hear it more often. By the way he sang so quietly, Gavin must not be terribly confident in his voice. He worked the guitar strings much harder than his vocal chords, though, even with as calm as the notes were. Nines imagined the fingers nimbly sliding over the strings and suppressed a shiver.

_“...June bug skipping like a stone, with the headlights pointed at the dawn… We were sure we'd never see an end to it all—”_

_Ding!_

RK900 snapped his head towards the elevator, where a couple was stumbling out, arms heavy with grocery bags and voices loudly chattering away. A pang hit his thirium pump; he couldn't stand out here like a creep, as Gavin might put it. Not when there were people here to see him.

_“And I don't even care to shake these zipper blues…”_

Though he was loath to interrupt, Nines rapped on the door.

_“And we don't know... ju—”_

The honey-sweet voice cut off—much to the android's regret—and the last chord echoed until it was forcibly silenced. There was scrambling, a curse, and finally the very near sound of a deadbolt and latch coming undone. The door swung open, one Gavin Reed staring up at Nines with the best look of irritation he could muster.

“You didn't let me know when you were coming,” he groused.

“I sent you a text,” Nines replied, unfazed by the display. He knew Gavin was just trying to act miffed on principle, not because he actually was. It was kind of cute, the lengths the man went to for his tough-guy image.

Gavin swept his phone out of his back pocket and looked at the notification on the screen. The knit of his brows eased, his frown transforming from annoyance to embarrassment.

“Oh… Guess I didn't hear it,” he mumbled, stuffing the device back in his pocket and glancing sidelong at the guitar resting flat on the couch behind him. Nines glanced past him curiously, attempting to determine the model from a search, but he couldn't see the front of it well enough from here.

“I'm not surprised. I could hear your playing from down the hall,” the android teased. He got the reaction he was looking for: the ruddy pink ears of one flustered detective and a shy grumble.

“Not like I have anywhere else to play…” Gavin huffed.

“I didn't say you should find one. What was it you were singing?”

“You hea—” Gavin cleared his throat, stopping himself before he could let too much of his embarrassment show. “I mean, uh… Pumpkins. Smashing Pumpkins.”

He hadn't needed to ask; RK900 had searched for the song already. _1979_ , from The Smashing Pumpkins’ album _Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness_ , released in 1995. He found it odd that Detective Reed, born in 2002 and having shown a liking for the music of his teens and twenties, would like a band from the 1990s enough to learn how to play their songs.

Still, he'd found it was nicer to ask than to rattle off information that no one had given him and close off doors to conversation—especially when it came to the Detective.

RK900 hummed to show his interest. “I liked it, I think,” he smiled, sending another ruddy rush to Gavin's face. “I didn't know you could play.”

“Yeah, I…” Gavin paused, leaning out into the hallway. It was empty now, but they'd been standing there talking for a good few minutes. “Why don't you… Just—just come in already, don't stand there like a fuckin’ creep.”

Preconstructions suddenly whirring to life at the thought of being in _Gavin's apartment_ , Nines hid his nervous excitement behind his usual mask of calm. This didn't mean anything. They were only co-workers being friendly. He was only here to drop off Gavin's wallet, which they both seemed to have forgotten already. He stepped into the living room as the Detective moved aside and closed the door behind him.

The android made no move to sit down, waiting for an invitation to do so. Gavin circled around him to plop himself back on the sofa and pick up his guitar.

“Anyway I uh… It's just a thing I do for myself, I guess,” he finished saying, giving the strings a few aimless strums. “Gotten kinda rusty, actually…”

Seeing as his host was comfortably sitting, Nines took a spot in the chair perpendicular to the couch. He set the wallet he'd still been holding on the coffee table, but Gavin was too distracted by making miniscule adjustments to his instrument's tuning to notice.

“You sounded fine to me. Better than I could play, admittedly.”

“Pfff, Mr. Perfect Roboto thinks I'm better than him at something?” Gavin snarked between short plucks. “The hell is happening?”

“Well, I wasn't programmed to be musically talented,” the android admitted. Unfortunately, most androids were not programmed with the innate knowledge to pursue creative hobbies, but Nines had never needed it anyway. “But I'm sure I could download some software…”

“Orrr…”  Gavin paused his fiddling, idly running his hand up and down the side of the guitar's body. He shrugged, as if what he was about to say was just a random, insignificant thought. “I could uh, I could teach you. I mean, if you want.”

Teach him? RK900 had never learned a skill by being taught; everything was coded into him. It would be a waste, surely, since a download would allow him to simply pick up and instrument and play like he'd been doing it for years. Still, the thought that Gavin had offered up his time...

“You realize that would be much more time consuming?” Nines asked. The Detective only scoffed at him.

“'Course I do! Takes most people fuckin’ years to get any good.” He punctuated this by playing a short, energetic little riff, plucking at the strings with bare fingers. “But you've got a robot brain, so I bet you could learn all the chords in a day.”

Gavin _wanted_ to teach Nines, it seemed. The pump in his chest stuttered at the thought, but he hid it with an amused grin. “Well then, why don't you teach me some?”

“Alright, I fuckin’ will! Here.” Gavin hoisted himself out of his seat to step in front of Nines and hand the guitar over. If he'd interpreted correctly, a musical instrument often held quite a lot of sentimental value to its human. And Gavin was just handing his over to Nines. And… putting his hands on Nines. Standing entirely too close. Nines’ preconstruction rendered a scenario where he leaned up to the Detective and— No, no, he couldn't. It was unprofessional, inappropriate.

“So you wanna strum with your dominant hand and keep your non-dominant on the neck,” Gavin was saying as Nines dragged himself back into reality. The man was taking the android's fingers and placing them on the strings them just so, pushing his arms into position and his back into proper posture. “Wait, are you a righty or a—no, you're probably ambidextrous, that was such a dumbass question.”

“It's not,” the android answered, slight smirk curling on his lip at Gavin's needless worry. “While I am ambidextrous, I'm programmed to favor my right because most product designs are catered to right-handed users.”

“Okay, okay, I didn't need a lecture,” the Detective grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, just uh… play with it a little bit, make sure that's comfortable.”

Nines plucked a bit at the chords, shifted until he found an optimal position to reach as far up and down the neck as possible. He did not fail to notice how Gavin was staring.

“Are you going to teach me, Detective, or are you just going to let me fumble my way through?”

Startled out if his trance, Gavin hid a blush behind a hand coming up to brush at the scar on his nose.

“Fuck off! I was just thinking of what to show you first. Uh, here—” The chair protested with a groan as Gavin pulled himself up to perch on its arm next to the android. He leaned over and reached around to place Nines’ fingers on the correct  strings. “That's B.”

The guitar hummed quietly with Nines’ careful strums. Simple. His slender fingers could easily reach where they needed to go. He committed their positioning to memory and moved on.

“Hmm. What else?”

“Jesus Christ, slow down!” the Detective laughed, nudging his partner with one hand.

RK900 refused. He'd already committed this chord to memory; he had no need to practice more. “How about a song?”

“Uhhh… shit, what's simple… Okay, how about this…”

With practiced fingers, Gavin reached around Nines and repositioned his hands, going through several different chords and naming each one for him: G, E minor, C, and F.

“Now go back to G. And strum kinda like this,” Gavin patted out a little beat on his thigh until Nines followed along. “So do that like eight times, then switch to E minor for four— nah, nah, like this— Cool, then C for two, F for two, and start over.”

They continued on like this for a few minutes, what felt to RK900 like hours despite his internal clock keeping time down to the millisecond. He played away, Gavin stopping him every now and then for a pointer— playing wasn't all just getting the correct notes or chords, it seemed, but also a whole tangle of technique and personality that Nines wasn't sure he would ever develop. Beside him, the Detective murmured the lyrics under his breath, surely thinking Nines either wasn't listening or couldn't hear him over the guitar.

 _Macy's Day Parade_ , from Green Day's album _Warning_ , released in 2000. It seemed the Detective liked music by bands whose discographies began in the 90s. He noted this and filed it away for future use, focusing now on the warm touch as Gavin leaned in to correct his posture.

After the final bar, Gavin slipped down from his spot next to Nines and stretched his arms above his head.

“Guess you're not gonna have any trouble surpassing the master then, huh?” he grunted as he cracked his neck, likely sore from leaning over his partner for so long.

“I doubt I'll have any creative flair for it,” Nines admitted, handing the guitar back to its rightful owner.

“Don’t sweat it. Even if your style is like… robotic fuckin' precision or something, it'll still be your style.” Gavin set the instrument off to the side, propping it up against the couch. “Anyway, it's late, I should get ready for bed and shit.”

It wasn't even 9 o'clock. RK900 suspected that Gavin just wanted to be rid of him, and as much as he wanted to spend more time here, it would be rude to overstay his welcome. They did, after all, see each other every day for hours at a time. The android nodded and lifted himself from his seat, straightening up his jacket.

“Thank you for the lesson,” he said, adding with a sly grin, “How much do I owe you for your services?”

Gavin barked a laugh. “Just gimme my wallet and we're even.”

“It's been on the table since I came in, Detective.”

“Oh.”

Looking down at the mess of mail, papers, and remotes on the coffee table, Gavin spotted the wallet in question. He snatched it up and stuffed it into his back pocket with his phone.

“Anyway, uh, guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Nines allowed Gavin to see him to the door, which he held open for his guest. The hall was as quiet as he'd left it, empty and bland.

“Have a good night, Detective,” he nodded back to Gavin before turning on his heel and stepping through the door.

“Yeah, see ya,” the Detective waved before disappearing back into the apartment. The lock and deadbolt clinked shut as RK900 left. His lingered with each step, rubbing his thumb against his fingers and imaging the strings that had been beneath them, the hands that had nearly held them.

Of course the Detective didn't go to bed right away; RK900 knew him to be a night owl based on his own and Tina's testimonies. Gavin probably thought Nines was gone already, because that slow, mellow strumming returned, picking up where it had left off. The near-whispered lyrics carried with it, Gavin's voice so much sweeter when he sang, his usual bite and growl gone.

“ _We don't even care, as restless as we are… We feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts and poured cement, lamented and assured, to the lights and towns below…”_

The notes floated down the hall, following RK900 to the stairwell. He stopped there with a hand on the door, and let his eyes slide closed, his audio processor bringing the lyrics in crisp and clear.

_“Faster than the speed of sound, faster than we thought we'd go, beneath the sound of hope…”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
